


Little Surgeon

by orphan_account



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Apologies, Army, Cheating, Chick-Flick Moments, Childhood Trauma, Divorce, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Manipulation, Estrangement, F/F, F/M, Hospital Sex, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Miscarriage, Physical Abuse, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reunion Sex, SOLDIER - Freeform, Secret Relationship, Surgeons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 15:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia Shepherd was only looking for a place to cool off after the heat of her impending divorce and the haunting memories of years healing in a war zone. What she really got, though, was a brother who didn't accept she'd grown up, a first class job in a hospital with nosy people, and a really, really complicated sex life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Surgeon

**Author's Note:**

> I only own the character, Lydia Shepherd. All rights to the other characters go to the lovely writers of Grey's Anatomy.

"Uh, tall dark roast coffee and a... raspberry muffin." A dark haired woman reached up towards the serving window, taking her items from the carrot-topped boy. "That'll be six-twenty-one." She fished a five and two one-dollar bills out of her armband.

She'd just gone for her morning run and was in the mood for coffee. Water should have been her first choice, but something was telling her that today would be one of the days. The kind of days that makes you wish you'd drank an ocean of energy drinks. It was a horribly familiar knot in her gut.

"Keep the change." The boy took the money and smiled with a slight nod of his head.

The woman turned around, bumping right into a man with dark brown hair and a matching pair of eyes. Her muffin fell out of her palm and she cursed under her breath, but, thankfully, her coffee stayed in the paper mug... cup... thing.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you coming." The apology tumbled out of her mouth as she smiled apologetically. He simply returned the gesture and shook his head, a blush dusting his cheeks.

"No, no! It was my fault. I should have been looking where I was going." They both chuckled. She crouched down to pick up the tainted pastry and ruefully tossed it in the nearest trash can. That muffin looked really good and it probably was. Damn it.

"All right, let's just agree that... the life of a delicious muffin was lost today in a freak accident." She pretended to be solemn for a moment before she grinned and stuck out her hand. "I'm Lydia."

The man took her hand with a goofy smile and shook it. "George. It's nice to meet you."

"You, too. Although, I can't say the same for my raspberry muffin." His jaw dropped as they started walking towards the crosswalk.

"Wait! A raspberry muffin? Those exist?"

Lydia chuckled and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, and they're my favorite." He shook his head and looked down at his feet. "Well, except for the ones with the sugary gloss all over it. Those make me nauseous." They laughed a little before she hit the button for the crosswalk lights.

"So... where were you heading?" George asked, motioning to her exercise clothes. She looked down and the corners of her mouth quirked up.

"Oh, yeah. I go for a run every morning, you know, stay fit and keep up my stamina." She glanced up at the light, waiting for it to let them cross. "I just moved here from LA and I'm trying to learn all the streets and paths and stores." He made a surprised face.

"LA to Seattle? That's a huge change in... well, everything." Lydia shrugged and sighed simultaneously.

"The City of Angels isn't all it's cracked up to be. As drunk as some people get there, not enough surgery in the world could've made me stay." He made a noise in his throat and Lydia peeked at his face, eyebrows drawn together. "What?"

"You're a surgeon?"

"Yep. Double board certified as a cardiothoracic and trauma surgeon." She sighed with the faintest of smiles. "I'm living the dream. How about you? What's your dream?" He chuckled ironically.

"I'm, uh... well, I was a surgical resident at Seattle Grace Hospital." Her eyes went wide.

"Really?" George nodded proudly.

"Yeah, second-year."

"Why'd you quit?" He gave her a half-smile.

"I'm not quitting, not really." He inhales deeply. "I'm joining the army to become a trauma surgeon in Iraq." Lydia takes a step back.

"Wow, that's... that's amazingly brave! Good luck." The light flipped to the little white character that seems to be walking and the two started to cross. "So, you know Derek Shepherd?"

"Yeah, he's the head of the neuro depart-WATCH OUT!" He grabbed Lydia by the waist and shoved to the other side of the street.

She'd just fallen to the ground when a bus rammed into the man who'd just saved her life. Screams sounded all around her, but they were background noise. She didn't even have time to think. She just ran. As fast as she could, she ran after that bus halfway down the block until finally the driver must have noticed the body trapped against the vehicle.

The doors opened, but she just ran around them and the people filing out with horrified faces. Dropping to her knees, she pulled George the rest of the way from under the bus and immediately checked his pulse. Nothing. She started CPR, pressing hard on his chest with every compression.

"Someone call nine-one-one! Now!" Her voice was louder than all the screaming and gasping. He wasn't breathing either. He needed oxygen, but his lungs wouldn't start working on their own. Damn it.

Sirens reached her ears, but they sounded so far away. He was bleeding and his skull was bashed in. As much as she wanted to save this incredibly kind and brave man... he would never be the same after this. If he even survived this. It would take the world's best surgeons to put this man back together, but, first, he needed to get to the nearest hospital.

Suddenly, there were paramedics pushing through the crowd of people. "Ma'am, you can step away from the patient." Lydia looked up and shook her head before continuing compressions. "Ma'am." He touched her shoulder and she shrugged him off.

"He has no pulse, no breath sounds and was dragged by this very bus half a block." She glared up at him. "I'm a surgeon and I can help. So get him on a gurney right now and get us to the nearest hospital!" And with those words, everyone went into action.

They lifted one side of him and slid the plastic board under his body before lifting that up and fitting in on the gurney. Lydia climbed on, keeping time with her compressions, and they loaded it into the rig. Someone fitted a breathing mask on George and began to breathe for him while another started a pressure dressing on the man's face. He finished that and continued to his left arm that had sustained serious road rashes, bleeding profusely.

And out of nowhere, the doors flew open on the ambulance and there were people pulling the gurney out. Lydia had been on autopilot, flashing back to old times when she was fighting to save countless men and women, but now she was in doctor mode. She was a surgeon.

She tuned into the conversation.

"Didn't they stop when they hit him?" A skinny blonde exclaimed, shocked.

Lydia chimed in. "Yeah, after the bus driver took him halfway down the block." Both women looked up at her as they pushed the gurney through the ER doors. She kept her compressions steady, even when she felt a warm, wet sensation on her forearm and pain in her shoulder that felt more like background noise.

"And who the hell are you?" The other doctor, with dark hair and orthopedic hands, asked.

"The woman who's helping you save this guy's life." She climbed off the gurney and kept compressing as the team moved him to the hospital's own gurney. "Push twenty etomidate and a hundred of sux. Someone call the chief and tell him that Lydia Shepherd needs surgical privileges."

The ortho looking doctor looked up at her. "Shepherd? As in Derek Shepherd?" Lydia rolled her eyes. This wasn't the time to be flabberghasted. They needed to focus on the patient.

"Yes, now get that look off your face and page him and while you're at it, page plastics. This guy's skull is bashed in and the pressure is compressing his brain." Everyone went silent except for shouting for someone to page neuro and plastics. The monitor started beeping, erratically, but it was something.

"We got him." Piped up the little blonde from earlier. "He's back."

"Okay, he needs trauma labs, a series, and as much O-neg blood as you can get. He's going through hell, let's make his trip back a little easier, yeah?" There wasn't a pause after she spoke or anything of the sort. They kept moving forward like good trauma doctors should. Maybe they weren't so slow after all.

"Start antibiotics and clean out these wounds." That ortho girl is efficient and calm under this huge amount of pressure. Maybe's she's a trauma gal.

"There are severe avulsion injuries to the left forearm. If we're going to have even a shot at saving it, keep the vessels intact and watch the color of those fingers." Lydia's voice was strong and adrenaline was rushing through her veins. God, did she miss this, even if it was coming from this kind man's suffering. That kind of out a damper on the joy, though. "Who's the bottom of the food chain in this room?" Everyone turned to look at a button-nosed girl with brown hair.

"Little Grey." The girl in question looked as if her puppy just got put down.

"Little Grey?" She sighed. "Whatever. Go find the chief, get me surgical privileges and if you hurry back you can scrub in." Her puppy came back to life and she scurried out of the room.

They continued to work on him and she called for an ultrasound machine, using it to search for the internal hemorrhaging that was sure to be there. There was no way he could get dragged down the block by a public bus and not be bleeding everywhere, even inside his body.

The dark-haired woman, Doctor Callie Torres, who was, in fact, an ortho surgeon she learned, started to assess the damage to the arm. She cleaned it but refrained from dressing it so the on-call plastic surgeon could have a look.

And as if the universe wasn't having enough fun today, the one and only Mark Sloan waltzed through the doorway, snapping the band of his latex glove. Of course, he was the on-call plastic surgeon. It was unreasonable to think she could catch a break. She looked back down, hiding her face with her hair, and continued with the ultrasound, hoping he wouldn't notice her until she had the time to figure out what to say to him.

"Whoa." Was all he said and she bit her lip, actually praying he was talking about the man's condition.

"Man versus bus." He exhaled sharply.

"Yeah, and the bus definitely won." Insensitive as ever, that was clear.

"Check out this arm." Mark plopped down in a rolling stool and start analyzing the mangled limb.

Suddenly the heart monitor returned to its erratic beeping and his stats began dropping. "He's crashing again!" Big Grey, apparently Little Grey was her half-sister, start compressions and Lydia stowed away the ultrasound equipment.

Always one for dramatic entrances, Derek burst in through the only closed door, also snapping the bands of his gloves as he put them on. "What do we got?"

"Roadkill, that's what we got." Lydia scoffed, unable to handle his crassness towards this man. He saved her life and he didn't even know her.

"God, Mark, do you have any compassion? He jumped in front of a bus to save my life and we're basically strangers." Mark's eyes met hers and his went wide. "As far as anyone should be concerned, he's a hero."

"Lydia?" Both men in the room exclaimed simultaneously. Derek had paused examining him and she groaned, knowing this would happen.

"Can we have the mushy chick-flick moment later, if at all? There's a man's life on the line." Her brother complied, still glancing up at her every few seconds, but doing his job. "And it's Doctor Shepherd when I'm working." Mark, on the other hand, wouldn't stop looking at her, even when Torres started talking to him.

"Is the arm salvageable, at all?" Torres looked down at him, but his eyes were still on Lydia. "Mark." He seemed to snap out of his daze and glanced down at the limb.

"I... the fingers are already blue..." He examined them a little more. "It'll have to be within the next few hours if we want even a chance." Derek's voice rose above the din.

"Pupil's blown, stop CPR" He pocketed his light and grabbed an electric razor, shaving a portion of the guy's head. "Cranial drill, please." A nurse handed it to him and he looked to Grey, holding it out to her. "Want to practice your burr holes?" The woman took the drill eagerly. "Stabilize the neck, please, nurse. Okay, Grey, you want to go in slowly and when you feel it grab you have to stop, otherwise you'll damage his brain."

She position the drill and clicked it on, the whirring sound filling the room followed by the sound of bone crunching. Derek urged her to go faster and then she heard it grab, everyone yelling to stop and she pulled it out quickly. The monitor's rapid beeping started to go down and returned to the standard rhythm. She was good, Lydia could admit.

"Not too bad, Doctor Grey." Lydia chuckled with a smirk, but as the adrenaline rush started to fade, she started to feel the weight of the day. The searing pain in her shoulder and the burning in her forearm and torso didn't make matters any better. Or, you know, the pounding in her skull. She took a step back and reached up to touch her forehead, the pads of her fingers coming back a dark, dark red.

"I'm going to go get some... Whoa, her, you need to get a work up done." Mark walked over to her and cupped her elbow, trying to get her to comply. She stepped away from him. "Derek, talk some sense into your sister." Derek looked up at her and put on his serious, concerned brother face.

"Lyd, you were knocked into the road! A very unsanitary and rocky road." He was using his big brother 'I know everything'. "Let him check you out."

"No, no, no! I'm fine. He got hit by the bus to save my life. I'm o-kay." She went to take another step to try and finish her work, but a dizzy spell hit her hard and black spots coated her vision.

"Lydia..." Derek's patience was definitely wearing thin.

"Fine! Fine." She pulled off her gloves and trauma gown, stuff it in the waste bin behind her. "I'll let him have a look." Mark followed her out of the room and moved to place a hand on the small of her back, but pulled away when he saw her bare skin.

"You got yourself pretty banged up out there." She shrugged and stopped in front of an on-call room.

"Could've been worse." She looked up and down the hallway before pulling Mark into the room, checking each of the beds to make sure no one else was there to listen in.

"What are you doing?" She closed her and inhaled deeply, grabbing the back her neck. It was a nervous tick of hers.

"Mark... what the hell are you doing here?" She spun around to face him, her hands moving to her hips. "I was expecting my brother and his new girlfriend, Meredith Grey of all people. At least, that's what Addy told me." She began pacing the width of the room, her eyes locked on the floor. "How did you get back into Derek's good graces?" Her went wide and she stopped moving. She looked up at him, analyzing his guilty face. "He doesn't know?"

"He... After the thing with Addison, it didn't seem like the right time." Lydia scoffed and plopped down onto the bottom bunk bed.

"He hasn't even had time to hate and forgive me because he has no clue." Mark gingerly sat down next to her, watching her cautiously.

"Hate you? Are you kidding me?" She looked up at him, confused. The older man sighed. "You're his little sister and I'm his best friend. Sure, he'll hate you a little, but he'd kill me if he got the chance."

Lydia shook her head and rested it on his shoulder. "He's not going to kill you, Mark. I made a choice to go after you just like you made a choice to go after Addison." A throb of pain constricted her chest, but she forced it down. "He is going to try, though... to kill you." They laughed and she felt comfort in the familiarity.

Lydia tilted her head upwards, staring at the angles and planes of his face. He met her gaze and slowly, too slowly if you asked her, reached up to move her hair out her face. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and she felt like an angsty, hormone driven teenager all over again. Oh, to be seventeen and vieing for the attention of her brother's twenty-year-old best friend.

She bit her lip and leaned into him.

"Lydia... you're married." Her bitter chuckle echoed brokenly in the small room.

"He's dead to me, okay? Just..." She sighed. "He's not my husband." Their faces inched closer and her heart sped up.

"Are you sure?" His voice was huskier and his Adam's Apple bobbed. "Derek might find out."

"Either way, you already fucked his little sister once... twice... over and over." He tensed at her words and she smirked. "Doing it again isn't going to change anything. So just... do it."

That was all he needed to press his mouth roughly against hers and move his hands to her hip and her neck, pulling her against him. She didn't smile or sigh. She just went with it, throwing her leg over his lap and straddling him.

Their lips moved in familiar synchrony, pulling and biting and sucking. Heat flared between her legs when he pushed down on her hips, grinding her pelvis down against his. She gasped, giving his tongue the chance to enter her mouth. Her body arched into his, her fingers tangled in his short hair, their hips still surging against each other. His hands moved down her back and she inhaled sharply.

"Ow, fuck!" She instinctively moved away from the pressure, unintentionally pushing further into him. Mark fell backwards onto the bed, pulling Lydia with him. She fell over him, her hands supporting her weight on either side of his head and his hands still on her hips. "Damn, I really got myself torn up.

Mark was overlooking her injuries, concern etched into the line of his face. "Yeah... come on." He lifted her and set her on her feet, following her off the bed. "Let's get you patched up, Lyd." The nickname rolling off his tongue tugged at her heartstrings. It had been too long since she heard it from him.

"Okay. Lead the way."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I really appreciate you taking the time to check out my work. If you have any questions, comments, concerns (I don't know, maybe I was stupid and incorrect about a dosage?) you know where to spill 'em. <3


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